The concrete structures loomed over the streets as he passed them. He wondered if residents had some sort of pass or clearance to be able to be out during the curfew. There was a newsstand, with disposable vids on display with different networks and headlines stories.
James walked over to read a few of them. “Mayor christens new research center located in Capital District in honor of fallen Shepherd Center.” Shepherd? It sounded familiar to James, but he couldn’t place it. The Shepherd Research Center? He started to pick up the vid to read the story and the man at the stand stopped him. He wasn’t Civic Protection, but he had some sort of uniform with a permit badge on his jacket.
“If you want to read it, then pay for the vid,” the man said in a scratchy voice. “If not, then stop loitering around here. You’d better get out of here before CP sees you. I’ve watched your sort disappear before because of them.” James almost said something back, but he realized that with his clothes and appearance, he looked homeless. He looked at the man, and could see the hopelessness and emptiness in the man's eyes. There was also concern. The man genuinely didn’t want to see James get hurt. James turned and kept walking, not wanting any trouble.
He made a turn and had moved through only a few blocks when he passed a small group of men in uniforms, talking to each other in a small alley. Civic Protection. James glanced at them, making eye contact with one of them accidentally. James quickly turned his head away, but he knew he'd gotten the man's attention. The soldier motioned to the others, and they started following him.
James didn't need to turn his head to know they were ten steps behind him. At that moment an awareness awoke in him. Somehow, he could sense the soldiers behind him. He wasn't sure where it had come from; maybe the creature on his back was enhancing some other senses. It must have. The creature shuddered, giving off a feeling of agitation. He felt it through the creature, and began to feel agitated himself. Why are they following me? He tried to control himself with more rational thought. What do they want? I have nothing of value. He knew how he appeared to them, and it was during curfew hours. He felt the creature on his back trying to guide him. It was urging him somehow to turn into the nearby alley. The officers followed him in. Oh that was smart, he thought, now I’m cornered.
He kept walking down the alley, and stopped in the middle. The four officers had all followed him in, and had stopped ten feet from where he stood. Their uniforms were dark blue, with the Civic Protection insignia on the left breast and the right arm. There was no indication of rank among them. None of them looked particularly bright, or friendly. All of them, including the leader, were clean shaven. The leader, however, had several capped teeth. This was obvious when he smiled with a menacing grin.
“I’d like to see your identification,” he said. The others watched silently.
“I’m sorry” James said, “I don’t have any.”
“What are you doing in East District then?” James said nothing. The man continued, “There are only two reasons why a bum like you would want come to East District. He’s either up to trouble, or he’s in something worse.” The men straightened menacingly. James crossed his arms.
“I’m not sure what you’re saying,” James said, “I’m just passing though.”
“To what, go to Capital District?” The man scoffed at him. "What you're up to could be a number of things. Lots of homeless are dreg heads, stealing the waste tanks from the cars around here. A full tank of cell residue can catch a high price, making over a gallon of dreg for anyone to get high off. Or, you could be out trying to spread discord among the local populace.” The man had scorn in his articulation. “What do you think, Andre?” He looked over at one of the other men. Andre, who looked like a body builder who had broken his nose several times in his life said, “We're obligated to take care of anyone who causes discord.”
“Yes,” the leader said, “it's our duty to stop and bring in suspicious characters. You look pretty suspicious. A young guy in a homeless getup, short cropped hair and as fit as you look. You're not really homeless. I'm guessing you're into something a bit deeper.”
“This is just a misunderstanding,” James said. The men slowly approached him.
“We're authorized to use lethal force if he resists arrest,” another one of the men said.
“I’m sensing some resistance,” Andre said as he took another step forward.
James uncrossed his arms, and clenched his fists. He felt his agitation turn to anger. These men were obviously just out to hurt someone. Hurt him. His anger began to take control, and he felt the surge that the creature was giving him. The leader of the gang noticed James tense up, and said, “I guess we may have a fighter. Good.”
It was that moment that James' vision changed. He could see the men for what they were on their inside. He could see their souls. The stains on them left them with ugly colors, colors that the human eye couldn't comprehend, and should never witness. Each one of the men had a map of their lives written on their souls like some sort of violent horror story. James closed his eyes.
The officers circled him. James felt the creature moving throughout his body, his veins, skin, even his mind. His perception grew, and he could feel the heart beats of the men, their breathing patterns. He knew every physical weak spot each one of the men had.
They each pulled a small pistol from their holsters. Before any of them had a chance to fire, James was already in motion. He jumped towards Andre, tearing the pistol from his hands. Metal plates instantaneously covered his arms and chest for instinctive protection. It was that instant, that motion that James had lost all control due to the anger, the rage inside him. His right hand was holding Andre's pistol, which he quickly dropped. Both of his hands became covered in the scaly metal of the creature. He grabbed at Andre’s chest, and his fingertips extended like long sharp knives. In that instant all the other officers saw James tear the pistol from Andre’s hands and then thrust his left hand into Andre’s chest, with five sharp metal claws sticking out of Andre's back.
James knew immediately that he'd pierced both Andre’s lungs and heart. Somehow he'd instinctively gone for those organs. The other three men were surprised, but also angry at their fallen friend. James had withdrawn his metal claws when the other three aimed their weapons, clearly surprised that they would actually have to use them. The anger still had a hold on James however, and all he saw was red. His right hand grew claws of its own and he charged. One shot went off before he'd made three swipes with his clawed hand in an animal-like maneuver. All of them had fallen to the ground, with James standing over them. Andre was dead before he hit the ground, the other two officers were also. The leader with the capped teeth was bleeding to death from a gash on his neck.
James looked around himself, around the alley for a moment with his eyes and ears. He used his other sense to scan around and see if anyone had been alerted to the gunshot. It was too early in the morning apparently. No one had heard it, or at least responded to it. He had almost no blood on himself, although the ground was pooling red. He started to panic over what he'd done, but he pushed those emotions aside. He had to concentrate on what was happening right now.
James stepped over the dying leader who was drowning in his own blood. Seconds later the man was dead. James then began to look through their clothes. He found several wallets with cash cards, and a phone on the leader. He took all the cards, and the phone, and put them in one of his pockets. There were IDs in each wallet that matched their Civic Protection badges. He stared at his hands, which had changed back to normal. He looked over at one of the alley walls, a dark gray brick. He focused his mind on the claws, and they grew back, but this time only an inch in length. He made them curved and extremely sharp.
He dug the claw into the brick. His enhanced strength enabled him to pierce the brick wall easily, his claw holding his hand in place. He drove his other hand into the wall, clawing upward. He climbed, reac
hing the roof easily in a few moments. He stood on top of the building for a moment, and ran over to the opposite edge. He felt the panic trying to resurface, and he knew he needed to get away from there as fast as possible.
He moved on to the next building, which to him was just a short jump away. The next few roof tops were just as easy for him to get across, and soon he was several blocks away. There wasn't much blood on him, but there was some; he knew he needed a place to freshen up. The building he’d ended up on had a door on the roof which he opened with a kick. It appeared to be an old apartment building. He walked down to the bottom floor, where there was a restroom. He began to wash his hands, seeing the red run off them into the sink. What had happened was finally settling in.
When he was done washing his hands he splashed some water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror. This was a nicer mirror, in a better restroom. It still held the same reflection though. He looked at it and didn't like what he saw.
“Who are you,” he asked the reflection, “a murderer? A monster?” He felt guilt, mixed with a sense of justice. He knew what those men were on the inside. The actions of their past had left stains on them. He didn't understand how he could see their stains on their souls; see them for who they really were. The person in the mirror was still a stranger to him. He had no memories of himself before he'd awoken in the rubble. He wasn’t sure he liked the person he was getting know now, the new version of him.
As dawn approached, the city's nickname became more apparent. James had wandered through the rooftops, and was now approaching the library again, this time from above. According to the clock at the top of the building, it was almost seven. The library opened at eight. He had an hour to kill. He decided to get a change of clothes, something less noticeable in this part of the city.
About a block away there was a department store opening. It was a large store, taking up all of the building it resided in. Since around six thirty, there had been increasingly larger crowds appearing in the streets, moving about in the early morning. James arrived at the front doors of the department store as the clock tower on the library ran out, signifying that it was now seven. The door had a security pad on the side beep, and with a click the doors were unlocked. James entered silently, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
There was a small credit screen near one of the register desks. He scanned each of the cash cards to see how much each was worth. He was surprised to find out each one of the officers carried several thousand credits on each of their cards. James quietly stuffed the cards back into a pocket and turned to the clothing aisles.
He noticed that the metal on his back would only lower enough to sit at the midpoint of his neck, making it fairly noticeable, so he decided he needed a jacket with a high collar for that. He also took into consideration that his eyes were an unusual silver color, probably due to the creature as well. After about half an hour he left the store carrying several bags. He then walked to an old hotel he had passed by earlier that morning.
There was someone at the desk, and it was a reasonable price for a place in the city. He figured out why it was so reasonable pretty quickly; the place was old and ugly. Even in East District, where things appeared nicer and cleaner, it was still a façade. It would work for him, however. He didn’t have to worry about feeling safe, unlike anyone else who probably stayed there.
His room was just a bed, night stand, and a small bathroom with a sink, toilet, and bathtub. He set his bags on the bed and stared at the wall. He then sat down and began to process the day’s events. I killed four men. I did it without even thinking. He looked at his hands, disgusted and amazed at the same time. They were as steady as he was calm. He didn’t feel upset, and he wondered if he’d waited long enough to process his own actions that the impact was diminished. He shook his head at himself.
The only thing to do now was get some answers, and get his mind off what he’d done. It was in self-defense, after all.
3
Christina stared at the small vid screen clock on her nightstand. Six thirty in the morning. It was soon enough for her to get up. She sat up and turned on her lamp. She heard her roommate stir from the next room, but she was still asleep.
“I still can't sleep,” Christina said softly to herself. She stood and walked over to her desk. It was a plain, rectangular metal desk. There were some pictures on the walls, and a tan rug placed on the brown tile floor, but it was still plain and empty to her. She sat at the desk. In front of her was a data vid that was in sleep mode.
To the right of that was a photo of her family, her and her parents. They’d been dead several years. There was another photo of her with an athletic young man with dark hair and a thin face. His eyes were green in the picture, but if a person had seen them in real life they would look more hazel. His smile was warm, and infectious. He could make another smile with the aura he himself projected. He had his arm around her in the photo. She herself had red hair and brown eyes. Her light eyebrows hovered above a slightly curved nose that he had once described as the nose of a fairy. They were both wearing jackets and ice was around them. It was a cold winter when the photo had been taken.
She took the picture in her hands and looked at it. Her brown eyes started to tear up. There was a knock on her door. Her roommate, Leah, stood at the open door. She was a short lanky girl, but kind hearted.
“I don’t understand why you’re still here," Leah said. “You should take the rest of the semester off. Everyone would understand.” Christina shook her head.
“I have to finish this, for him. I graduate in a couple weeks. He would have graduated too.” She silently placed the picture back down where it had been sitting, next to her with her parents. After another minute or so of sitting there, she stood up, pushing the chair back with her legs. She walked over to the closet and pulled some pants and a sweatshirt.
“What are you doing?” Leah said to her.
“I need to get out of here for a while.’” Christina had gotten dressed by this point and was brushing her hair and putting it in a ponytail. It was shoulder length, but somehow had always manageable. Strangely, it was fighting her today. She pulled on her brown jacket that had been sitting at the foot of her bed and started out the door. “I’ll be back later.”
4
James finally walked into the library off of Main Street at eight-thirty in the morning. He had cleaned himself up and was wearing new clothes. He was wearing some khaki loose-fitting slacks and a black, long-sleeved dress shirt with a collar. He had also managed to find a gray trench coat, which had a collar high enough that it covered the back of his neck completely. He wasn’t too worried about his silver eyes getting noticed.
He followed the signs that led to the archival section of the library on the second floor. The structure itself had tall ceilings with rows of data screens and vid screens filled with books, periodicals and archived media programs. The archived periodicals were in a small room with a few hundred or so data screens stacked haphazardly on shelves. The room was dimly lit, with a brown tile floor. The walls were a faded green. There were a few metal chairs scattered about the room.
He looked over the stacks of data screens on the shelves. Each data screen was less than a centimeter in thickness, each average a square foot or so in size. He picked one up from the top of a small stack on a nearby shelf. His finger lightly slid on the glass surface, activating the screen. The small room lit up with the blue light of the data screen. Text began to scroll across, and James read it silently. It was a newspaper archive from a few months ago. He put it down and picked up another one. It was a magazine, one about cars. He put it back on the shelf after reading the title. The screen detected that it was no longer being viewed, shutting off as quickly as it had activated. It was quiet this morning, which he appreciated. He had the room, the library’s entire second floor, to himself, it seemed. He sat in one of the nearest chairs.
He started looki
ng through the old data screens, starting one stack at a time. Unfortunately, they weren’t very organized. After about twenty minutes he was able to deduce that the city’s largest newspaper was the Tribune, and the writers in it really liked the mayor. It kept on referring to a terrorist attack that had occurred on March 20 of that year. He paused, and pulled out the phone that had belonged to one of the CP officers. He turned it on and looked at the small screen, searching for the date. It flickered April 22, in small glowing letters. The attack was a month ago, he thought. I wonder what happened. He started pouring over the stacks of data screens, searching for the date March 21.
He finally found a data screen that held the Tribune with the date of March 22, the day after. The article surprised him:
Resistance Terrorists Bomb the Shepherd Research Center. Over 400 people are presumed dead, including many of the Dirge’s leading doctors and philanthropists.
Yesterday afternoon, March 21 at 9:15 in the morning, the High Council received an electronic letter from a group claiming to be the resistance, opposing the freedom and prosperity that Father and the High Council have brought to Dirge, enabling our survival in what would have otherwise have been a lost future. The letter claimed that the medical research that those scientists and doctors were working on was an abomination, and that people deserve to have the diseases and addictions that have afflicted our city. In the letter the group claimed responsibility for the bomb the erupted at 9:17, damaging the Shepherd Research Center to the point where it lost structural integrity and collapsed into itself. The Shepherd Center was founded by Dr. Derek Shepherd, who pushed for it to be built in Old District so they would be closer to the people they were trying to help.
Fortunately, Dr. Shepherd was not at the Center when the attack took place. He was unable to be reached for comment. Listed below are the victims of this tragedy…”
City of Twilight: Rise of the Hunter (The Vanguard Chronicles Book 1) Page 2
